Sucker Bet
by chiefraz
Summary: You gotta know when to hold em and know when to fold em, it's the 15th of Sept and Gojyo has a ghostly guest. Is it time to run?


Saiyuki is the creation of Kazuya Minekura, the song The Gambler was written by Don Schlitz with the best known rendition by Kenny Rogers

Sucker Bet

Midnight at the Eights and Aces

"You got to know when to hold em

know when to fold em

know when to walk away

and know when to run"

-The Gambler

The cards flew to and fro between my fingers with a practiced ease. Didn't even watch where they went, only that all 52 would kiss the palm of my right hand as they lept from the left in a long orderly line. A little Hindu shuffle for variety and the next merry magic trick, the Waterfall: the snap and rustle of the deck as it cascaded down, spilling its hearts and and diamonds on the worn wooden table at the Eights and Aces Cantena and Inn.

This was the sound of one hand dealing at midnight when I should've been cuddled up next to the warm smooth body of the 31st select of Buddha. You can still see I like saying that. Got braggen rights on the finest piece of ass ever blessed by the heavens. Sanzo had moved a little when I got up, he'd tipped on to his back, lay there with all that yellow hair spread upon the pillow in the moon light, his face soften and those lips pursed as if to......aw damn, down boy down! Bad dick, bad! Get down off the furniture!

But I've got things to do; it September 15th the most haunted night of the Ghost Month and there is someone I need to talk to . On the bed of playing cards, I've laid out a bowl of plain sticky white rice with two chop sticks stuck in it like funeral incense, a dish with steamed sweet bread and a bottle of Jack Daniels on a red napkin. But unlike Mulain* who prayed his mother and other poor damn souls outta Hell for one night, I ain't a good son and only came to Buddhism by way of intimate conversion . Hallelujahhhh brothras and ah sistas I have seen the light, feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel the sexual heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling! Can I have an amen?!"

No, this food isn't for my mother and it never will be. I won't pray for her soul in Hell nor her spirit to escape the Angry Mothers**, I will not or EVER beseech the gods for her forgiveness, not after what she made Jen do. she can fucken starve till her fucken neck streches out like a fucken giraffe.

Oops, sorry stuck on rinse, lather and fucken repeat.

No, this spread is for someone else.

I sit back and pour a finger or two of Jack into a glass for myself then pull out a cigarette. Laying it beside the rice bowl, I pull out another cancer stick and light it. The smoke curled and climbed the air, making shapes of faces familiar and foreign in the light of a single candle flickering near the doorway to the outside. I was alone in cantenia, the barman and wait staff had long gone home to pray and make offerings at their family shrines.

Hey Honey, I'm home! Guess a bar room has always been Casa de Goyjo, and right now Sanzo, Goku and Hakkai are the closest thing to family as I had in a long time. Sorry Jen but bro you've been long gone, and...I can't say your new name! Goddamn it man, couldn't you have found something even a puke like me could pronounce?

I light a small white candle on the flaring ember of the last breath of the fag, then tossed the butt to the floor and ground it into the sticky wood. Years of spilled food, slopped beer and tobacco of every leaf turned the flooring into bar fly paper as my feet my squishy sticky sounds with every move.

Pressing my hands together, steepling fingers scarred from one too many punches, blocks and paper cuts (hello, played cards for a living, occupational hazard) I prayed, singing the bits and pieces I could remember of the sutra Sanzo had done for the soul of Kanan, hoping that the Buddha would have mercy on poor kappa.

"Hey Goyjo, " a familiar voice came out of the cigarette smoke. "How you doin boy. Didn't know you was bitting the peach*** back then. Would have watched my back side a whole lot better."

Not looking up, I grinned, "Hoa, what makes you think I would've ever looked twice at your puckered old ass hole anyway? Hoa Quing Yu, was the closest thing I had to a...father? No, more like a card daddy, life coach ,Fagan and cheer leader who gave a homeless kid a life and vocation. Damn I sure can talk pretty, looks like I got a vocabulary by way of religious injection. Hmmmm stick your finger into the light socket and feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel the power!

The specter took form and substance from the smoke until he was solid enough to sit his bony self down in the chair across the table. Hoa Quing Yu looked pretty much the same in death as he had in life; willow tree bent , a face lined like a road map of Beijing and silver/grey hair pulled back in a long thin braid. Dressed in the best burial clothes I could steal, he looked more like a magistrate then the drunked up small town gambler he was.

"Not a bad spread there kid," Hoa examined the offerings appreciatively. "Nicotine, alcohol, sugar and starch, oh man, my four favorite food groups." He reached for the bowl of rice, then with a few deft movements shoveled the gooey mess into his mouth, washed down with a gulp of Tennessee s' finest. He slapped the glass down for a refill which I did, good thing it was a big bottle, was going to be a long night. After that he chewed up the sweet bread and after another quick swig of booze, I gave up on trying to keep the glass full and just handed him the bottle.

After a little while, Hoa leaned back in his chair and gave one hell of burp, followed by a machine gun fart and then a hacking cough complete with a big hawken loogie that he sent flying across the room to hit the far wall. "You're welcome," I said watching with grossed admiration at the distance and the way the greenish grey ectoplasm rolled down the white plastered wall. "Glad you like it."

"Can't get this kinda grub in Hell," he said contentedly. "A great card game yeah, everybody I knew in life just made the move after they croaked. But this..." he picked a grain of rice out of his long thin beard, "this is great eats. He popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed with grand relish. Too bad it's just once a year." Ha picked up the cigarette with reverence, caressing the filter tip and breathing in the aroma of the best cowboy killer this butt fuck town had to offer. "Next to food, I do miss one of these. You'd figure Hot Narakas would be asshole deep to a tall Indian in cigarettes, but noooo. Its one big smoke free zone. Shit! Just because King Yama kicked his stogie habit, meant the rest of us had to go cold turkey." He sighed, "guess I shouldn't be too surprised, it is Hell after all."

Hoa looked about and then fixed his eyes on a tea pot. "Think you could play 'Momma' and make me up some tea? Nothing tastes as good as a cigarette with that first cup of tea in the morning or after a good supper. Between fucken and smoken, the older I got, women were more pain in the ass then pleasure , a cigarette never bitched about their hair or looken fat cuz it was that time of month."

I laughed and winked, "hope I never get that old."

That's when Hoa looked uncomfortable, to the point where he was about to say something but then stopped himself.

Walking over to the tea pot, I make myself busy scooping tea out the tin, putting water on the hot plate to boil and stealing glances at my guest, wondering what info he was holding back on.

Hoa took one last long inhale, sucking the fag right down to the filter. He snubbed out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe, then carefully peeling the paper off the butt and sticking the two pieces into his pocket.

"Still field stripping yur butts huh?" I smiled watching the small gestures and actions that made the memories and pieces of what I became.

"Yup," the old man grinned in that gappy toothed way that made all the more memories bust through. "Don't leave anything behind that can be used against you later." Maybe that's what this night was all 'bout too. Family, it's not only about blood and who's related to who, but the family you make and who touches you the most.

Hoa's grin dropped away and his face took on a resolve meaning he was now gonna say what he traveled all the cold leagues to say. " Which is why I'm tell'en yah now and don't take it the wrong way, this trip...it's a suckers bet. Cut your loses, get out now. Fold your hand, toss back the tiles, pick up yur money and butts, then run."

Before I could even think of some kinda come back, the kettle screamed for attention. The tea and my thoughts took a few minutes to steep as Hoa lit up another cigarette in the uncomfortable silence of the cantina. It was only after our cups were filled and the smoky aroma of the lapsong tea filled the room, that finally Hoa said his piece.

"Lemme give you a little dirt from the down low, kid, I can tell you right now this ain't gonna end well. Even if you do manage to live through it, and that is one big if, no body is gonna know or care what you and the rest of em did in order keep this miserable world spinning."

"No shit Sherlock, kinda figured that one out on my own." I slurped my tea, letting the dark brew roll down my throat, feeling the burn as it mixed nicely with the bile of resentment. "It's not like I gotta lot of choice in this. I tried to leave once and the guys all came after me. Besides, her 'bitchship' the 'merciful' and I do so use that word loosely, goddess sent us out on this little excursion to stop the rising of Gyumao. Doubt she'd just let me walk away either."

"Oh, yeah that's right, you're on a mission from God." Hoa snorted in disgust. "So tell me Ellwood****, if it's soooooooooooooooooo, imperative that you stop it, why ain't you there yet? Why has it taken you 10 years just to get here? By the way, and where is Mr. Big Shit Scary Gyumao? Is he on the rampage like Godzilla through Tokyo? Hell no, he's still in mothballs at Hotu Castle.

"Huh?" This little bit of information took me by surprise, both in the fact the old man had been spying...watching...crud, which ever! And that Gyumoa wasn't even out of the starting gate yet.

Hoa, after lighting up another cigarette, sucked it down to the filter in one long pull and then released the smoke through his nose like some perverted temple incense pot. " Just because I'm dead don't mean I'm stupid. Considering the number of yuki and assorted other losers you four have capped, King Yama had to create a whole new wing in Hell just to fit em all in. So we've had a steady stream of information from the minute you hit the road til that last nights' fire fight with them dumb asses."

And they were too, just some stupid low lives who thought they could could cop a few bucks and a jeep fast and easy which was just the way we took em too. Left em for buzzards banquet in three seconds flat.

The old man leaned back in his chair and picked more stray bits of rice from between his teeth with the long pinky fingernail he'd always had lacquered red for luck. "Funny thing is, as good a fighters as you guys think you are, and you ain't bad, you ain't that good either. It's real easy to kill a man, walk up to him and shove a gun in his ribs. Long range rife, predator drone, napalm, Christ, it's so damn easy it ain't funny. Yet here you are."

It was an uncomfortable feeling listening to him, considering what he was saying out loud was what had been quietly creeping into my thoughts lately, especially at night. Even after some insanely wild monk sex when the last cigarette was put out and we'd roll over, I'd wait until the sound of Sanzo taking that deep breath and releasing it slowly in a long sigh through those soft lips that I'd know for sure he was asleep. Then getting up I'd go to the door and lay a hand on the knob. Then stop, even though the images of tossing the door open wide, running down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time, out the front door, making my escape through the night blackened streets till everyone was far behind. Those moments seemed so real that for just a moment I'd believe, but then I'd snap back, naked and shivering in the chilly air of one more hotel room in just another bum fuck town on the endless road to India.

"China is one hell of a big country," Hoa's commentary snapped me back, "but it ain't that big. And why are you driving? Couldn't Heaven spring for air line tickets? It's not that hard to get reservations on China Southwest."

There was no good answer to that one either, but still I had to be a smart ass. "Guess there isn't a direct flight from Chang An to Hotu Castle. Besides, could you see us trying to get through airport security?"

"You're still such a Homer Dumb Fuck," the old man said affectionately, gently slapping my cheek. His hand felt like cold electric spider webs on my skin; it took everything in me to keep from clawing his fingers away and falling back over the chairs. "But really start thinking about it kiddo," Hoa got up. He swung the bottle of Jack to his lips and chugged down a fist full of fingers of 'Old Number Seven'***** in a Hong Kong minute. Hoa slammed that dead solder****** down on the table making the dishes jump. "Gotta saddle up pretty quick and shag ass back to hell. Get out while the gett'en is good, find another pretty boy to fuck and live a long life. Because the way you're headed you and me is gonna be room mates before long."

Hoa walked to the main door of the cantena and swung it open wide. The night was fading way in shades of grey and blue, the street now empty would fill with villagers doing their daily thing and the four of us would be packing up to get on the road. "Think about what I said." and with that he stepped out over the threshold only to fade away into a fine shimmering mist, melted by the first rays of the rising sun.

I sighed and walked over to the door and stared out without really seeing. The night of ghosts was over and I was left with a wish for a long scalding bath, a lot whiskey and to forget last evening ever happened. What possessed me to call Hoa up for dinner and a chat? It was one of those things that sounded like a good idea when I thought of it yesterday afternoon and still was right up until the old fart started talking. What had I been expecting? Not a sucker bet thats for sure or just a confirmation of what I already knew.

So now what now? Leave? No chance of that, the Merciful fucken Goddess will make sure of that. And if she didn't Sanzo would, he'd personally hunt me down, fill me full of lead and drag my bits back in a bucket. Then toss em in the back seat with the monkey boy. Suicide was not my thing, being dead would not even be the end of my troubles.

So this whole meshugas has left me still holding this D ride ticket. Closing the door slowly, I turned around, only to go nose to nose with Sanzo, who seemly popped out up from between the floor boards. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Falling back against the door, clutching my chest, I blurted out, "Sanzo, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Going to India, ya asshole. Where else?" His lavender eyes were blood shot, the way they'd get when he didn't have much sleep....oh shit! Did he wake up and come down last night, how much had he heard? I tried to brush by all casual like but Sanzo caught my arm and pushed me back against the door. Then, he lifted my chin until I was forced to look into those fierce eyes, "aren't you?" Sanzo asked in that soft sexy deadly way of his, "coming too?"

Mulain* a disciple of the Buddha, he interceded on his mothers behalf to help her reincarnate out of hell.

Angry Mothers** Portuguese vengeance spirits, see the story 'Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep'

Biting the peach*** The bitten peach, an old Chinese reference to homosexuality

Ellwood**** from the movie 'The Blues Brothers', see Jake and Ellwood Blues

Old Number Seven***** Jack Daniels, see the label

dead solder****** US army slang for a empty bottle


End file.
